Eugenia’s chance of succeeding was one in a hundred. But Doña Maria Manuela – from whom the real initiative surely came – was never a woman to be daunted by the odds being heavily against her.
By midsummer 1852 everyone in France, even at such quiet little watering places as Eaux-Bonnes, was saying that when Prince Louis-Napoleon became their emperor he would immediately set about founding a dynasty. He needed to find a bride who would be able to bear him children as quickly as possible, since he was already forty-four. Presumably he would choose a foreign princess from one of Europe’s great ruling families. In June the diarist Comte Henri de Viel Castel heard a well-founded rumour that the Prince President was going to marry Princess Carola of Vasa, a member of the former ruling house of Sweden who had the added advantage of possessingBeauharnais blood. Carola refused his proposal, however, marrying the king of Saxony instead. There were equally well-founded rumours that he was on the look-out for a German princess. Gossip of this sort was not exactly encouraging for Doña Eugenia’s hopes.
At the same time Louis-Napoleon’s long-standing mistress was pestering him to marry her. Everybody suspected, correctly, that he was still sleeping with Lizzie. Admittedly Viel Castel noted that at supper during a ball at the château of Saint-Cloud where his mistress was present, ‘his love for Miss Howard did not stop him from stroking the thighs of the lovely Marquise de Belboeuf, who appeared to be neither surprised nor flattered’. Viel Castel also tells us that at the end of October Lizzie went to a state performance at the Paris Opera in honour of the Prince President. ‘The more respectable element among the audience was horrified at seeing Miss Howard, the President’s mistress, sitting in a prominent box and covered with diamonds, which gave a most unfortunate impression.’
Eugenia and her mother were back in Paris by early October, occupying the apartment at 12 Place Vendôme with the big rooms that Maria Manuela had so much admired on a previous occasion, as being particularly suitable for giving receptions. She intended to give as many as possible, since she needed to make all the useful contacts she could, in order to further her matchmaking. The faithful Ferdinand Huddleston had rented an equally splendid flat nearby and from its windows they watched the Prince President’s triumphant return from a hugely successful tour of southern France, during which (in a widely quoted speech at Bordeaux) he had declared soothingly, ‘The Empire means peace.’
Wearing full-dress uniform, Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte, Prince President of France, rode a mettlesome chestnut charger through the streets of Paris on his way to the Elysée, dramatically keeping several paces ahead of his glittering staff. Looking much better on horseback than he did on foot, he made a fine, soldierly impression, which was what the people expected from someone who was the great Napoleon’s nephew – few of them can have realised that his experience of military life had been limited to a short spell with the Swiss army, as a humble captain in the Berne militia. There were big wooden arches over every street along the route, decorated with flags and bunting which bore the unequivocal words, ‘ Vive Louis Napoleon Empéreur! ’ while medals bearing the legend ‘ Napoleon III Empéreur ’, were on sale at every street corner.
The normally cynical Parisian crowd cheered him wildly. Older citizens commented with astonishment that it looked extraordinarily like the ‘ Joyeuse Entrée ’ of the old kings of France and Navarre when taking possession of their capital of Paris on succeeding to the throne – just as Charles X had done less than thirty years before – which was precisely what they were meant to think.
Doña Maria Manuela immediately set about obtaining invitations to the Prince President’s official receptions at the Elysée
By midsummer 1852 everyone in France, even at such quiet little watering places as Eaux-Bonnes, was saying that when Prince Louis-Napoleon became their emperor he would immediately set about founding a dynasty. He needed to find a bride who would be able to bear him children as quickly as possible, since he was already forty-four. Presumably he would choose a foreign princess from one of Europe’s great ruling families. In June the diarist Comte Henri de Viel Castel heard a well-founded rumour that the Prince President was going to marry Princess Carola of Vasa, a member of the former ruling house of Sweden who had the added advantage of possessingBeauharnais blood. Carola refused his proposal, however, marrying the king of Saxony instead. There were equally well-founded rumours that he was on the look-out for a German princess. Gossip of this sort was not exactly encouraging for Doña Eugenia’s hopes.
At the same time Louis-Napoleon’s long-standing mistress was pestering him to marry her. Everybody suspected, correctly, that he was still sleeping with Lizzie. Admittedly Viel Castel noted that at supper during a ball at the château of Saint-Cloud where his mistress was present, ‘his love for Miss Howard did not stop him from stroking the thighs of the lovely Marquise de Belboeuf, who appeared to be neither surprised nor flattered’. Viel Castel also tells us that at the end of October Lizzie went to a state performance at the Paris Opera in honour of the Prince President. ‘The more respectable element among the audience was horrified at seeing Miss Howard, the President’s mistress, sitting in a prominent box and covered with diamonds, which gave a most unfortunate impression.’
Eugenia and her mother were back in Paris by early October, occupying the apartment at 12 Place Vendôme with the big rooms that Maria Manuela had so much admired on a previous occasion, as being particularly suitable for giving receptions. She intended to give as many as possible, since she needed to make all the useful contacts she could, in order to further her matchmaking. The faithful Ferdinand Huddleston had rented an equally splendid flat nearby and from its windows they watched the Prince President’s triumphant return from a hugely successful tour of southern France, during which (in a widely quoted speech at Bordeaux) he had declared soothingly, ‘The Empire means peace.’
Wearing full-dress uniform, Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte, Prince President of France, rode a mettlesome chestnut charger through the streets of Paris on his way to the Elysée, dramatically keeping several paces ahead of his glittering staff. Looking much better on horseback than he did on foot, he made a fine, soldierly impression, which was what the people expected from someone who was the great Napoleon’s nephew – few of them can have realised that his experience of military life had been limited to a short spell with the Swiss army, as a humble captain in the Berne militia. There were big wooden arches over every street along the route, decorated with flags and bunting which bore the unequivocal words, ‘ Vive Louis Napoleon Empéreur! ’ while medals bearing the legend ‘ Napoleon III Empéreur ’, were on sale at every street corner.
The normally cynical Parisian crowd cheered him wildly. Older citizens commented with astonishment that it looked extraordinarily like the ‘ Joyeuse Entrée ’ of the old kings of France and Navarre when taking possession of their capital of Paris on succeeding to the throne – just as Charles X had done less than thirty years before – which was precisely what they were meant to think.
Doña Maria Manuela immediately set about obtaining invitations to the Prince President’s official receptions at the Elysée
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